


Indecent

by kwunkwun



Category: EXILE (JPOP), Sandaime J Soul Brothers
Genre: Buttsex, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, extremely lots of buttsex, lots of buttsex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 15:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10364217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwunkwun/pseuds/kwunkwun
Summary: The crowd was busy screaming and drinking up the sight of the performers rolling their pelvises against the smoky air, but Hiroomi was busy listening to Ryuji make love to the mike with those sounds, to Ryuji fucking the music with his voice.Can be read as a very loose companion fic to "1st floor West wing male bathroom, don't go in there", but it doesn't really matter, since both are essentially pwp's.





	

The stadium was packed, and LED’s of a myriad of colours flickered in the darkness. Strobe lights illuminated the stage, splicing up everything within the primal dualism of bright light and stark shadows.

Hiroomi sat at his throne with one foot up, and six seats down his vocal partner was bringing his microphone up to his mouth, awaiting his cue. He forced himself not to look as Ryuji effortlessly delivered an _ohh, baby_ in falsetto, a languid flourish of sensual notes that were full of promises. Ryuji added an intonation after this – _intonation,_ who was he kidding, it was a moan, a breathy and sharp _ahh_ that made him think of doing terrible things.

The crowd was busy screaming and drinking up the sight of the performers rolling their pelvises against the smoky air, but Hiroomi was busy listening to Ryuji make love to the mike with those sounds, to Ryuji fucking the music with his voice.

 

* * *

 

It’s sweet. It’s totally sweet, the way he tastes as he moved against him, crushed between his body and the wall. Ryuji was sighing and whimpering in pleasure, purely from how he was prying his lips apart with his tongue, dipping into the hot cavern of his mouth. Ryuji’s nape seemed to burn under his palm, and he wanted to bite him, lick him, mark up the delicate neck that the sagging collar of his oversized jacket so perfectly accentuated.

In his desperation, he pushed forward a little too hard and the change room cubicle rattled dangerously, reminding him that this was neither the place nor time to be kissing Ryuji into oblivion. There were moments when he hated his job, with its crazy schedules and all.

He felt Ryuji slide a hand up between them, and then push lightly at his chest. It was the signal for him to relent, and he did so with a displeased hum. Their mouths separated with an obscene smack, and he looked down at Ryuji –his dark eyes reflecting honest desire, his lips all wet and pink, his breathing reduced to pants.

“Ah, we…” Ryuji paused to clear his throat. “Should go.”

All that making out had left his voice a little croaky and high-pitched. It made Hiroomi feel protective and horny all at once.

“You go first and I’ll follow in a couple minutes. So that it doesn’t look suspicious.”

“Huh? Oh! I get it. I didn’t even think of that. Haha, it’s like we’re having an illicit affair.”

Fuck, this guy.

Hiroomi reached up to fix Ryuji’s hair, and Ryuji obediently bowed his head, gazing up at him through his fringe, his eyes dancing in mirth. Fondness bubbled in Hiroomi’s chest.

“Am I good to go, Mr. Stylist?”

“Yes. And Ryuji?”

“Hm?”

“Come and stay overnight if you don’t have plans tomorrow?”

He watched Ryuji go from surprised to abashed in the space of five seconds.

“Sure, but we’ll be too tired from performing to… you know.”

Hiroomi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I know, but that’s not what I meant, you idiot. Seriously, that head of yours…” Hiroomi unlocked the door and gave Ryuji a gentle push. “Go on, we’ll be late.”

Ryuji threw him a big, dopey grin over his shoulder and responded, “kay, see you in a bit Omi!”

As he watched Ryuji sneak off he thought, hopefully he wouldn’t have to listen to Ryuji make any more of those illegal sex noises for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

Ryuji awoke to a slightly unfamiliar ceiling.

Yawning, he gave his hips a shimmy and felt a dull ache in his joints. A fuzzy ray of morning light shone weakly through the gap between the curtains. Propping himself up by the elbows, Ryuji groggily made out the rough outlines of a desk, a walk-in wardrobe, a standing lamp, the bed he was lying on, and then the man resting next to him.

Ah, Omi’s apartment.

He fumbled for the water bottle beside him and downed half of it, leaving the other half for Omi when he woke up. Whenever that might be. His lover was sleeping soundly, his bare chest rising and falling with each slow breath. The sheets were a tangle around his waist, and Ryuji reached down to fix them, but his eyes were lingering on Hiroomi’s face. Severe brows. Strong cheekbones. The mole under his right eye. That sensual mouth with the full bottom lip.

Honestly, Omi was so good looking.

He ran a hand lightly along Omi’s jawline, and leaned down to peck him on the lips. They were a little chapped, but pliant and warm from sleep.

Hm. Maybe one more.

Or maybe two?

Spurred on by shy curiosity and instinct, Ryuji continued to pepper Hiroomi with kisses: down the side of his neck, across his collarbone, over his chest, and he hesitated for a few seconds before he lightly brushed his lips against one dusky nipple. Heart in his throat, he stole a glance at Hiroomi, but he only slept on peacefully.

Desire was beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach, but so was anxiety –would Omi hate this? Or would he like it? Given their schedules, alone time with Omi was rare, sex was even rarer, and instances of him taking initiative, practically nonexistent.

Well, there was a first time for everything, and the day is young.

The unique scent of Hiroomi’s body grew stronger the lower he went. He dipped his tongue into his belly button, and then ran it briefly over the thin trail of hair below. After that, there were only the blankets and a pair of navy boxer briefs between and Omi’s –crap, was he really going to do this? Ryuji gave Hiroomi another peep, and found him just as dead to the world as before. Yes. Yes he was.

He swung his legs towards the head of the bed and half draped himself over Hiroomi’s torso, lining his head up with Hiroomi’s crotch. He gnawed at his bottom lip, vision swimming half in want, half in apprehension. All thoughts fled his brain when he finally pressed his mouth to Hiroomi’s groin, kissing and mouthing at him through his underwear. Soon, he could feel the stir of Omi’s arousal, and smell the musky scent of his rising desire. With trembling fingers, he tugged down the band of Hiroomi’s briefs and slid them over his hips. Hiroomi’s dick rose gently from a nest of dark curls, flushed and a little hard against his palm. He had never seen it so closely, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of stroking it, tasting it, feeling it inside of him, made him shiver and grow hard between his legs.

He parted his lips and gave his cock a slow, long lick from base to tip, tracing a prominent vein with his tongue. Encouraged by how it seemed to twitch from the attention, he repeated the gesture, until his mouth was hovering over the head of his cock. Ryuji pulled a ragged breath into his lungs, unbelievably excited, and then he began to probe at that spot on the underside of the tip and around the half-retracted foreskin until it folded back completely. The head of Hiroomi’s dick swelled under his tongue, and a milky bead of precome seeped from the slit. He lapped it up, and a soft moan rose from his chest, from how Omi tasted, from how Omi’s hips were bucking reflexively under him –oh?

Ryuji turned his head to see his lover shift on the mattress with a quiet groan, and when their eyes met, the expression Hiroomi made was absolutely priceless. Briefly he wondered whether he should say something like ‘hi, good morning’, because he was caught, he was totally caught, and this was so mortifying, so exhilarating, so, _ugh,_ he couldn’t fucking make up his mind, how was he supposed to?

“Ryuji. What –you… oh, fuck –

He let want and need take the reigns, and lowered his head again, rolling his tongue around Hiroomi’s prick, nice and slow, and then he took the head into his mouth and gave it a hard suck. When he broke away to look at Hiroomi, a streak of precome dripped from his lips, and in his embarrassment he laughed quietly before asking, “Can I keep going?”

Hiroomi’s face took on a gorgeous shade of crimson, and he groaned back, “Yes, please. Don’t stop.”

Hiroomi was laying himself back down, giving his hips an eager little thrust, and Ryuji’s heart was blissfully heavy with the thought that Omi was offering himself to him like this. His eyes fell to half-mast, and he forced himself to relax as he closed his mouth over Omi’s cock, sliding his mouth down, deep, deeper, until he felt it nudge at the back of his throat. He fought back the urge to gag, and he could hardly breathe, but there was an icing-sweet satisfaction coursing hotly through his veins, because of the way that Omi was moaning and writhing under him.

Omi was chanting his name in low grunts, and he felt his hand carding through his hair, fisting it by a gruff handful. Ryuji moaned, the sound muffled and warbled, but he let Omi guide him, he let him fuck his mouth however he saw fit. And then a while later Omi was yanking his head back, and he felt Omi buck into him, once, twice, before a hot fluid flooded over his tongue and down his throat. Ryuji pulled away with a whimper, unable to swallow in time, but before he could wipe the come from his mouth Omi was shoving his face into the mattress, sliding out from under him, yanking off his clothes and pushing his knees apart, until he was pinned there with his elbows folded by his sides and his legs spread in a precarious V over Omi’s lap.

He swallowed thickly and looked back at Hiroomi with dilated, watery eyes, and saw his lover rummage through the drawer to pull out a bottle. He heard him crack open the lid, and then he smelled a low, heavy and faintly sweet scent in the air.

“Omi?” His voice sounded like he had swallowed sand. The spot on the sheets under his head was damp with his spit and Omi’s release. Messy. So messy. He was so hard, but grinding into the mattress gave him very little relief.

He wished that Omi would say something.

But he only heard Omi’s uneven breathing as a pair of hot palms glided over the back of his thighs. What –what –what was this? That smell? That slightly tingly stickiness that Omi’s hands had left on his skin?

“Omi. Omi?”

“Yes?”

His hands had drifted to the arch of his waist, and they were sliding slowly up his back, over the back of his neck, thumbs working gently into the knots in his muscles and under his shoulderblades until he was left feeling like putty.

“Wh… what are you doing? What is that?”

Omi chuckled, the sound going straight to his cock. “Returning the favour. It’s massage oil.”

“Oh… but…”

_But touch me properly, you bastard._

Ryuji gasped and trembled as Omi’s fingers worked lightly over his ribcage and under his chest before teasing his nipples into aching, aroused points. He caught himself before he could say _please,_ because it was way too early to be giving Hiroomi that satisfaction. Hiroomi’s hands were on his hips, and then finally his ass, circling and kneading at his cheeks until he was digging his knees into the mattress in anticipation. Slick fingers caressed his entrance in painfully slow strokes, and Ryuji arched his back with a moan, already eager for more.

“Ryuji. God, look at you,” Omi was murmuring from behind him, and the heated reverence in his voice made goosebumps rise on his skin. Omi’s finger was pushing into him, pass the first and then the second joint, all the way up to the knuckle. He twisted it inside him, stroking his walls, thrusting in malicious slow motion, making damn sure that he would hear every wet sound his body made as he worked him open.

After the third digit, Ryuji stopped struggling and only tried to hold on. Every second breath sounded like a sob, every third a moan, and desire was choking him, suffocating him, as if he was drowning in a sea of black oil.

“Ready baby?”

“Yes. Yes, please, Omi.”

He said please. Fuck. Oh, fuck it –fuck it all –his mouth parted in a silent groan of ecstasy as he felt the head of Omi’s cock press against his hole, and he lifted his ass keenly as Omi pushed himself in inch by inch. Good, good, good, good, so good, god, finally, god, Omi, you’re all mine.

Hiroomi gave him no warning before sliding himself in the rest of the way in one crude, fluid motion, and he wailed as he was yanked back by the hips, backside meeting Omi’s pelvis with a smack. He saw a flash of white, and then to his utter surprise, he was coming, ejaculating onto the bed sheets in dissatisfying little spurts.

“Oh, someone is a little too excited?” Hiroomi snickered. Ryuji felt Omi loop his arms around him and drag him up, and before he could resist he was already sitting heavily onto Omi’s lap. The head of Hiroomi’s cock struck him right on his sweet spot, making him squirt a little more of whatever come he had left in him, and Ryuji pressed himself back against Hiroomi with a shuddering groan. Crap, he couldn’t believe he had come so fast, it wasn’t enough, but his limbs felt like rubber and his heart was hammering in his throat.

He swiped his tongue over his upper lip, pleading, “Omi, wait a minute,” but there were those hands again, running sensually over his thighs, his hips, his belly and his chest. He was sensitive post-orgasm, painfully so, and Omi seemed to delight in taking advantage of this as he delicately dragged his fingertips over the ridges and curves of his body. Ryuji felt Hiroomi’s fingers circle his nipples, flicking them, pinching them, until he was squirming and sobbing from the torture.

“Ah – _ow_ , god, Omi, you…”

Omi could be fucking nasty if he was in the mood, so he held his tongue and didn’t say anything like _stop it_ or _you idiot_ in case he got encouraged. All the same, Hiroomi was slowly thrusting up into him, taking hold of his softening cock and stroking, making his vision swim. His cheeks felt wet and hot all of a sudden, and then he realised it was because Omi had fucked him over enough to set off the waterworks.

“Feeling good?” Hiroomi was whispering in his ear as he rocked into him, gently pumping his dick to the rhythm.

“No,” he responded stubbornly through gritted teeth. He had nothing to hold onto, but the way Hiroomi moved was forcing him to use his thighs for leverage, and it was so fucking frustrating how Hiroomi had him wrapped around his little finger.

“No? I’d better try harder then. Moan for me? Come on, Ryuji.”

“I –ugh, _ahh!_ Stop it! You freak!”

And then he was moaning after all, losing himself to the sensation of Hiroomi driving into him, striking his sweet spot and teasing the head of his cock at the same time. He could feel the sting of Omi’s teeth on the back of his neck, and he opened his eyes to peer up at the ceiling through the blur of tears. Pleasure, delirium, heat, lust, the light in the room, the borrowed sweater on the floor, Omi’s teeth on his neck, Omi’s hands on his body, Omi inside him, Omi holding him, Omi owning him.

Ryuji closed his eyes again, throwing his head back to moan and sob until he had no voice left for either, and then a powerful wave was crashing over him, and he couldn’t tell much of what happened after that.

 

* * *

 

Hiroomi reached over and gave Ryuji’s cheek another gentle tap or two. He had been amused before, but now he was getting legitimately worried. The blankets had tumbled to the floor amidst the chaos, and the sheets were probably irredeemably soiled. He had gotten carried away, yes, but Ryuji was just as guilty as he.

Morning blowjobs.

Unbelievable.

Finally, Ryuji was opening his eyes with a quiet, confused grunt. Hiroomi reached over and brushed Ryuji’s damp fringe off his forehead.

“Are you okay?”

“Ugh… what? Why?”

“You passed out.”

“Oh…”

Ryuji tried to push himself up, only to fall back down again. He watched him lying there on the messy bed, legs folded in a graceful angle, hair dishevelled, skin softly illuminated by the dandelion glow of sunlight. So gorgeous. Hiroomi felt his heart squeeze as Ryuji turned to look at him with soft, dark eyes.

“Omi, come here for a sec.”

“What?”

He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned closer.

Ryuji’s hand flew across the air and landed squarely across his cheek.

“Ow! What the fuck –

Ryuji snorted, and then he burst into outright laughter.

It was hard to get angry when Ryuji was kicking his heels into the mattress like an overgrown child, and besides, the slap hadn’t been that hard anyway.

“Oh my god. You should’ve seen your face, Omi…”

“You suck.”

“Your fault for going all commando on me.”

“Sorry…”

“Can you make me breakfast?”

“Sure.”

He made to slide off the bed, but Ryuji reached out to grab him by the wrist.

“Omi, come here so I can slap your other cheek.”

“Are you serious?”

Hiroomi leaned in anyway, but Ryuji only pressed a kiss to the side of his face, and then another to his mouth. Naturally, he slipped a hand into Ryuji’s hair to kiss him some more, until he could hear him make _those_ kinds of noises again.

Fuck, this guy.

In the back of his mind, he was already starting to calculate how much sex he could fit into today’s schedule.

 

The end

**Author's Note:**

> That's it, I have no more smut writing power left in me for at least a week


End file.
